Stack of lost letters take Kay Vallance back to D-Day

When Richmond resident Kay Vallance recently discovered a stack of long-lost letters written by her father, Arthur William Baylis, on the battlefield of the Second World War in the U.K., there were tears in her eyes.

During the four years fighting on the frontline, the sergeant with the Royal Canadian Engineers liked to write home from his wartime stations to his wife and father, who would share the letters in the men’s club at Baylis’ church.

One of the letters was written less than three weeks after Baylis splashed ashore along with the third Canadian Division on Juno Beach on June 6, 1944 — known to many as the D-Day landings.

“I sat and read the letters. Having the actual paper in my hand my dad had written it on, it just made the letter that much more real. I had tears,” Vallance told the Richmond News.

“When reading the letters, you almost felt that you were having that experience yourself, you could live in what he said and you were there.

“I just felt that it was really something to share with more people.”

Vallance, who is this year’s official Richmond Silver Cross Mother, remembers her father as a “very gentle person and very much loved by everybody.” She said when her dad came back home, he didn’t talk much about his experience in the war.

“He doesn’t want to upset anybody else or get it back to his family,” said Vallance.

“Even in letters, he never wrote anything bad that was going on. He didn’t really talk about the horror he saw. It’s just one sentence there that says, ‘I pray God I’ll be able to forget it.’”

Letter tells of ‘impressions of D-Day’ and moments before it

K29134 Sgt. AW Baylis

6th Fld Coy, R.C.E.

Canadian Army O

June 23/44

Dear Dad-

Here we go again for another line or two — with my impressions of D-Day and the days previous, which I would like you to pass on to the men’s club. 

Those last few days before leaving England were not just spent laying around and waiting, at least not for us. There was plenty to do in the final stages of preparation, checking equipment that was a vital part for the success of the operation we were about to be engaged in. The country, too, had to be studied and every man know his own particular job as well as the other fellow’s. In other words, to put it plainly, every man had to be in the complete picture and know the score, organization and distribution of troops in various camps, that they could be embarked in the speediest possible time with the minimum tie-up of road traffic.  It was well planned and carried out without a hitch.

Well, we were in one of those camps — our serial and craft number called out and our first phase of the journey had begun. We were transported to the dock and embarked on an LCT. The unit was split up and travelled on different crafts.  After the loading was complete we pulled out in stream for a couple of days.  D-day had been postponed 24 hours.

Comfort is not to be considered on an LCT. They are wide-open to the weather. Yes, we had rain and found shelter the best way we could, usually under vehicles. The cold, wet steel floor of the craft made no comfortable mattress. A few pieces of tarps helped out wonderfully.

While tossing about at anchor, I had the chance to send my last letter home from England, the skipper taking them ashore for us. A small ferry boat used to pass by about every half hour and passengers gave us the odd wave and cheer. Did they know? It might have been just another scheme.

Later on, the skipper came aboard again and presently we were underway taking our place in the convoy. It was a wonderful sight and a wonderful experience, numerous ships big ones and little ones that were to come in later with the necessities to carry on after the coast defenses had been put out of action and to establish a beachhead.

Once clear of the harbour and out into the channel, the craft began to toss about like a cork, and before dusk the shores of dear old England were lost to the view.  It was a rough crossing, the spray breaking over the craft and continually drenching us, some of the lads were sea-sick. Myself, I weathered the crossing very well — perhaps I had too much on my mind to even think of being sick.

First and foremost the loved ones at home, then the job in front of us, the reception Jerry would give us. I would not have changed places with anyone and considered it a privilege and an honor to take part in that great crusade.

As we were zig-zagging our way across, I imagined old Drake and Nelson looking down from their places on high with their chests swelled out and patting each other on the back all the time, wishing they could be at the helm again.

Dawn broke June 6th with the French coast in view. The Airforce had done its job, now for ours. Those last few minutes before touchdown seemed like an eternity, would we ever get in? About 15 minutes before touchdown, around comes half a gill of real Navy rum for every man.

“Dilute it” says No. 1. “Fudge” I say, and down goes the rum, woof!!

In a few minutes we ground, down goes the ramp and we scramble ashore but not without difficulty — waist deep with a strong tide, it was quite a job holding your feet down. Other craft, unfortunately, went sky high striking mines.

What occurred on the beach, I am going to omit. I pray to God I’ll be able to forget it.

After messing about on the beach for a while, we got into the town.

The sight of the French civilians had a wonderful effect on our nerves (mine anyways). It was still pretty hot. The fleeing Jerries were soon rounded up. Some of the civvies were crying — for what I never found out. Some offered a cheer, some were afraid to express any opinion at all, some thought it was just another raid and we would be leaving again after shooting up the town and (feared) the treatment they would get from the Jerries after we had gone.  After assuring them we had come to stay, things were different.  As we worked our way through the town, the lads were bedecked with flowers and pre-war wine which had been hidden from the Jerries came into view.

We had little time for celebrations at this stage of the game, time was an important factor; we had to keep on going.

I gave some youngsters the chocolate from my rations. It did my heart good to see the satisfied smile...on their young faces.

So on we went. Later on in the afternoon, we had our first real breather in another village, baskets of eggs were brought out and given to our lads. No doubt they were ready for collection by Jerry, but he did not have time for them that morning. It did not take me long to get my mess-tin and tommy-cooker and had two on the fly in nothing flat.

There was little sleep the first two days, and we were fagged. The infantry were worse off, but we kept pace with them and (were) often in front of them, reaching our objectives laid down for D-day. Perhaps we had easier going than other fronts or other sectors, as we were the only ones to do it that day.

Canada can be justly proud of her sons, heroes every one that took part in those first landings on D-day June 6/44.  Those who fell on the beach or drowned before they reached the beach — for them the war is over. But their families and mothers, wives, sweethearts — I pray, God, that the people of Canada will not forget them in their prayers (so) that they might have comfort and peace of mind. Also, God, give us the strength and courage to finish this job so that the cause for which our comrades fell will not have been in vain.  It’s going to be tough, but I think we can do it, and we will.

We know you are all behind us, and we will not fail you. Kindest regards to you all.

Yours as ever. Bill